A Refuge and a CallingThird Sunday of EpiphanyMatthew 4.12-23

Twenty-six years old David returned to the capital of his home country last month. He needed some personal identity documents in order to be allowed to continue his studies in Nairobi. David has been a refugee his whole life – his pregnant mother had fled for her life even before he was born. Things had been looking up for David. He is a talented musician and the vocational course he’s a student on should offer lots of possibilities for jobs. No wonder he was eager to get his nationality documents to make that a reality. Unfortunately the capital he had to return to in order to get his papers was Juba, South Sudan. Fighting erupted there on 15th December. Terrified by gunshots, David, with 14,000 other people is sheltering in the UN base known as Tong Ping in Juba. Conditions are squalid. David sleeps on top of a shipping container to get himself off the filthy ground. His only possessions are the clothes he’s wearing. He survives by the support of friends. He says, ‘The situation is becoming so bad, all I’m praying for is to get the chance to leave the country.’ David is a ‘displaced person’ – one amongst the more than 28 million displaced people in our world. Fatima miscarried in 2011. The shelling and intense gun battles on the streets of Homs were simply too much for her. Fatima and her husband Shadi had been waiting 17 years for a child. When she became pregnant a second time, Shadi decided they could risk staying in their home town. They fled to neighbouring Jordan – and that despite medical advice that the journey itself might prompt another miscarriage. Last September Fatima gave birth to twins. One of the twins has needed intensive care and Shadi’s mother has had to sell her jewellery to pay the medical bills. They live in the Jordanian town of Irbid; in a block that’s home to 52 other families. Not spacious, not clean, but safe. Fatima, Shadi – and now the twins Loai and Hala – were displaced persons. A small family amongst the 28 million displaced people in our world. Fortunately last October, Hala’s medical circumstance was a factor in the twins being registered as refugees which means they will now qualify for assistance. Even a refugee is better off than a displaced person. Two personal stories of displacement. Matthew’s story of Jesus seems to be another personal story of displacement. The struggle of the temptations is over; the confirmation of Jesus’ role has been made plain in his baptism by John. All is in place for Jesus’ public ministry to begin – but it doesn’t. Instead the news that John the Baptist is in prison prompts Jesus to leave the part of the country where John had been operating. And rather than go to the area of Galilee familiar to him, and presumably where he is known, he takes refuge at the north end of the lake. He goes to live in Capernaum. If they had come for John maybe they would come for Jesus too? John’s call to righteous has landed him in prison – death hovers all too close to the prophet. Perhaps Jesus’ own ministry is going to be snuffed out before it has hardly begun – the possibility of torture and death is already there. A story of displacement indeed. Doesn’t that make sense of the quotation from Isaiah? Jesus has taken refuge in a town where fishing and farming and trading are mixed together. This is a place where people are always coming and going. It’s much easier to appear incognito here. Yes, this is a place where everyday commerce makes for a mixed population – not a place where the ethnically pure can erect a firm boundary against the foreigner, the infidel, or the in-comer: ‘Galilee of the Gentiles’ indeed. A good place to hide as long as the distinctions are blurred or the stereotyping is masked by the need of barter and profit. A place of refuge – at least for the time being. Though it has to be said that death and hostility cast a very long shadow. That’s Fatima and Shadi’s experience; that’s David’s experience; and that was Jesus’ experience too, I feel sure. You can find a place to avoid trouble – if you’re fortunate – but there’s no guarantee that it’ll last. Displacement has a way of escalating. Places once safe, are safe no more. Not all those you want with you are going to make it to the refuge. Support is fragile; where there was food and help yesterday there is now nothing. Or the refuge is so swamped by those desperate for hope and help that assistance is stretched to breaking-point. There’s no way out; the only thing to do is to wait, hope, long, for peace to prevail. ‘A people who sat in the region and shadow of death.’ These are the thoughts that come to me as I think on Matthew’s story. How many times have I spoken about the call of the fishermen? ‘Immediately they left their nets and followed him’(verse 20). Such an evocation of determination, active response, and vocation stirred. ‘Jesus began to proclaim,’ asserts Matthew, and that proclamation prompts immediate response. An amazing story to tell . And how many times have I spoken about these verses just before that amazing story? I can’t recall having focussed on them ever before. Why all this naming of places? Why the emphasis on refuge? Why the leaving of Nazareth? Why the reference to unbelievers? Why the reference to arrest and death? I think Matthew was very careful in the way he wrote his Gospel – so we can’t ignore these verses and get right to the calling part because that’s the bit we’re most interested in. Matthew means us to read the story of the calling in the light of these verses about Capernaum and why Jesus was there. He means us to see the public ministry of Jesus beginning in his displacement. Why? Could it be that we so easily slip into the idea of Jesus’ life being all planned out by God that we fail to fully appreciate the real choices Jesus faced. He contents with the chances and changes of living – like any human being must. His public ministry starts in an unexpected and unplanned for place. Circumstances have sent him to Capernaum. Like any displaced person he must make best use of what life has brought him to. See here the God who strives and struggles. Could it be that we somehow put the fishermen in a class apart? They are not really common or garden fishers who reek of their catch and have hands gnarled with knot making and net casting. Is Matthew telling us that these characters who became heroes of the young church were really just a bunch of workmen who Jesus happened on that day? Was he walking by the lake because just like any of us he was drawn to the shoreline? How often have we as visitors walked the harbour wall to see what goes on between land and sea? In a place not so familiar to him he does what we all do. See here the God who sees potential in unlikely places and acts without great forethought and planning. Intuition often isn’t too far from love. Could it be that courage is found in unlikely circumstances and spiritual strength wells up even when it’s unlooked for? Is Matthew telling us that this isn’t where it was all meant to kick off, but this is where it happens to take place? Is he telling us that the Son of God comes amongst his people not blazing with indignation and judgment but in a humble ‘make do with what I’m presented with’ kind of way? Jesus finds strength here certainly – ‘Repent,’he declares, ‘for the kingdom of God has come near.’ There’s conviction and bravery in those words, and declaring them he will move on from this place of refuge. See here the God who takes his people’s side: living their confusions and finding life-giving hope where at first there seemed to be none. Could these be the reasons why Matthew includes these verses? I don’t know - maybe. But of this I’m certain: actions of grace and convictions of mercy forged out hard circumstances are good news. They tell me of a God who loves in the circumstances of human trouble as well as human joy. Isn’t that a message for David on his container roof, and Fatima and Shadi in their tiny flat? Shouldn’t that stir our prayers and concern? And shouldn’t that strengthen us to seek God in the commonplaces and the turmoil of our own lives?With acknowledgement to the UNHCR website www.unhcr.org for the stories of David and of Fatima and Hadi much abbreviated here. Names have been changed for the protection of those involved.